


Finally

by Katlou303



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Danny IS Gay Yoda, Discussed underage sex, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jealousy, M/M, No actual sex, Some vague sexual content, UST up the wazOO, the whole Derek-Kate debacle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlou303/pseuds/Katlou303
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The party at Derek's loft leaves Stiles with plenty of questions, and few people to discuss them with. Some surprising events unfold in the wake of Stiles' newfound sexuality crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally

**Author's Note:**

> The song playing in this chapter is Finally (Original Mix) by Mikkas & Amba Shepherd.

It's the easy way Caitlin had asked, 'Do you?' that gets to Stiles.

Like it's just that easy. He can like boys and girls.

And yeah, he knows in theory that bisexuality is a thing. He may have spent more than one night obsessively researching the entire spectrum of sexualities, demisexual, pansexual, asexual... there's a lot of different varieties. He's always been fascinated with weird stuff, male circumcision not excluded, and finding out that there was more than your standard straight/gay was too cool to pass up. He's always been the type of guy to Google his symptoms and become convinced he's got Lyme's disease or Lupus. He likes being special, having exotic illnesses (in theory, never in practice) and interesting genetic mutations (he's never turned invisible or intangible, but he's still hoping) and imagining really cool scenarios happening to him. Like armed killers entering the school and Stiles saving the day single-handedly. Like Lydia needing his advice for something and him being totally useful and verbally competent. Swooning would be involved, preferably.

He might have frenziedly Googled the Kinsey scale and scoured Wikipedia for sexualities when he was younger, searching for the one that fit him, but to be honest... Lydia had eclipsed everyone else. There had never seemed to be room for anyone except her. She demanded attention, she filled up all the space in his head.

He kind of assumed he was Lydia-sexual, if anything.

So he ignored it when dire supernatural events did not stop him from noticing the perpetual shirtlessness of every guy around him (it was like Scott, Jackson and Derek were allergic to shirts, the way they got through them). He was never bothered by how appealing the lacrosse team (except for Greenberg) looked while getting changed.

Lydia had made it very clear that she was not an option. Erica had liked him once, she said, but he hadn't quite believed her at the time – not with the crazy eyes and the way she hit him with blunt objects. And Heather... not an option anymore. Despite the drunken kiss Caitlin had just given him, he still couldn't think of her as anything other than the grieving girl in the hospital, wanting to make a night special for her girlfriend.

Do you like boys?

And hey, maybe it was that easy. Maybe it was as easy as making a decision. Easier than werewolves being real and virgin sacrifices becoming an actual threat to his life. If there was no Lydia, who would he go for...?

Stiles spotted Danny leaning against a wall, sipping from a cup with his usual unruffled expression. Honestly, Danny was so Zen and calm all the time... and he smelled good. Stiles really liked him. An embarrassing amount. Like, he wanted his attention, and to maybe be attractive to him or at least, around him. In his general vicinity.

And Danny was probably the only person he knew that was so far out of the closet it was nothing but a distant memory to him. Danny seemed so comfortable with himself, like liking dudes was nothing special. Maybe that was why no one ever bothered him. That, and his snake of a best friend was likely to cause grievous bodily harm to anyone who ever tried. Though Jackson was long gone now.

“Hey Danny!” Stiles shouted to be heard above the music, squeezing through the crowd with difficulty.

Danny did not look up, but he gave a fervent sigh. Meditation? Would explain the Zen.

“Danny!” Stiles repeated, now beaming in front of him.

“Stiles.” Danny raised his eyebrows. Stiles recognised the look on his face. It was the look Lydia, Jackson and pretty much everyone too cool to cope with Stiles Stilinki's weirdness adopted whenever he got too close. Like they were afraid he was gonna barf loser all over them.

Danny was a nice guy. Everybody liked him. But Stiles couldn't quite contain the flash of hurt he felt at his presence being so unwelcome.

“I have just been informed of potentially life-changing things.” Stiles said, trying to power up his smile to megawatt status again. He ended up twitching maniacally at Danny instead.

“Oh?” Danny raised his cup to his lips again, looking patently uninterested in Stiles' life, changed or otherwise.

“Yeah, man, I just wanted to, um, make sure – I mean I'm not sure yet, it's weird... I'm completely unsure but I thought maybe... you're the go-to guy for these sort of th-things and I just thought...”

“Do you have a point, Stiles?” Danny cut through his rambling abruptly, but he was smiling all of a sudden. Huh. Some people found Stiles' babble endearing. Maybe Danny was one of them.

“Uh, yeah, I just, um...” Stiles took a deep breath. This wasn't hard. It wasn't like they were in the 1950s anymore. This was totally normal. For some people. For Danny. Oh my god, what was his dad gonna say? Another awkward talk. Thanks a bunch Caitlin. Couldn't this revelation have waited until he was forty-five and deeply entrenched in denial?

“I think I like guys and girls.” Stiles burst out, his eyes screwed shut.

The music kept going. The world did not implode.

Stiles opened one eye warily.

Danny looked wryly unimpressed. “So you're bi, then? I kinda always figured, what with the obvious panting over both Lydia and Jackson.”

“What, Jackson? Panting? There was no panting, at least not from me, but I don't know about him because from what I've heard he's kinda in the panting business these days -”

“You were totally panting.” Danny said casually, “Maybe even drooling at one point.”

Not true. Completely untrue! He wasn't the one related to dogs here!

“And there were the obsessive, never-ending gay questions,” Danny continued, “Not to mention the fact that you apparently invited half the regulars of Jungle to Lydia's party? That... was a pretty big sign.”

“Hey, we're just friends! All of us. And I was just curious about – oh why am I even bothering.” Stiles moaned, moving back to lean against the same wall as Danny, “Apparently I'm completely oblivious in every area.”

“Probably,” Danny agreed, “But you don't have to be.”

“Huh?”

“I know why you came to me with this,” Danny said resignedly, “I'm pretty much considered the self-styled expert on all things not straight in Beacon Hills. I know you want answers from me.”

“So you're like a gay Yoda.” Stiles said thoughtfully. Interesting mental picture.

“Don't ever call me that again. Seriously, Stiles. Just ask your questions and go.”

“What's it like, kissing guys?” Stiles asked straightaway. He'd been going for casual and hit squeaky instead. His voice had helpfully cracked over the word 'kissing.'

Danny actually laughed, “It's pretty much like kissing girls, except completely different.”

“Hey! You said -”

“I never said I'd answer your questions seriously.” Danny shrugged, unashamed, “Ask me another.”

“You are so... argh, whatever! This is all completely new to me. I am so out of my depth right now. My depth is so shallow, it's practically a puddle, okay? And I don't even like getting my feet wet. I just wanna know what it's like kissing a guy!”

Danny huffed another breath out, exasperated, and placed his drink carefully on the floor, next to his feet.

Then he swivelled round, placing his hands on Stiles' shoulders.

“I'm going to kiss you now.” He said, loudly and clearly. He started to lean in, expression set and unflinching.

He gave Stiles plenty of time to back away, and only reached in to gently touch his lips to his when Stiles gave a tiny, terrified nod.

It was... indescribable. It was a kiss. It was warm and slick with the beer Danny had been drinking. The first touch made Stiles want to grab onto Danny and pull him closer. At some point his eyes had shut and it was like the kiss was all there was. Danny was confident, yet gentle, not pushing Stiles to go further.

Danny's hands were gripping his shoulders. Stiles' were hanging limply at his sides.

Two kisses at the same party. It was pretty much the mother of all scenarios Stiles' had envisaged happening in the future.

And then Danny made a very interesting noise and every thought left Stiles’ brain in a hurry.

xxxxxxxx

Of the list of things Derek was afraid of finding in his loft, a party hadn't even ranked.  
Sacrificed virgins or more alpha sigils, yes, writhing, hormonal teenagers and thumping techno music, no.

He walked in, disoriented instantly by the explosion of noise and movement.

There was an actual rave in his apartment. It smelled like a rave, at least. It was probably not a hallucination brought on by wolfsbane or a vengeful pixie.

Derek was dumbfounded. He couldn't even see anyone he knew, they were all strangers invading his home. Anger flushed through him at the thought and he struggled to calm down. His own, private space, his sanctuary he can escape to when he needs to just think... polluted.

The song throbbed underneath his feet, through the walls. Finally, a woman sang out, and the beat kicked up a notch. Rapid-fire heartbeats surrounded him.

He could smell vomit and alcohol. Anticipation and nerves. Sweat hung heavily in the air. And desire all around, pulsing like the beat of the music.

Derek turned his head automatically to avoid the growing pungent scents and unexpectedly caught the smell of a familiar one.

Stiles was here somewhere, buried deep behind a wall of partially-clothed flesh.

Derek shoved his way through, ignoring the loud complaints and drinks spilling onto his shoes as he went.

He followed the scent for a while, then froze.

The mingled desire of the partygoers was the heavier scent, but he could smell a similar odour coiled around Stiles.

Stiles always smelled like anxiety, deodorant and mint mojito gum.

His eyes flickered from one end of the room to the other, searching with a growing sense of worry he didn't allow himself to question.

And then he spotted him and the rest of the party shrunk away.

As far as Derek knew, as far as he cared to know, Stiles was a severely inexperienced virgin. Clumsy and awkward around the opposite sex, perpetually dateless and in a committed relationship with his right hand. Derek could smell the frustration and lust on the teen nearly all the time.

And yet, there he was. Wrapped around the goalie from the lacrosse team, Jackson's best friend.

He smelt like himself, nerves and tension and medication, but with the new, heady scent of lust clinging to every inch of him. The goalie's scent was beginning to mingle with his, overpowering everything but their mutual arousal.

Derek felt a strange kind of calm settle over him. He was always angry, bitterly so, lost in memories and regret. It didn't take much spark to make it flare into fury. So he tempered it, controlled it, used it to keep himself sane and human.

Now, stuck in a crowd of intoxicated teenagers, he felt his eyes glow and his claws begin to emerge.

He slowly made his way over to the two distracted boys. He drowned the music out, focused on his own breathing and the two excited heartbeats getting closer.

xxxxxxxx

And then Danny disappeared in a blur of movement and Stiles felt a hand shove him back. His head cracked against the wall and he cursed.

“What the hell is your problem?” Danny snapped.

Stiles opened his eyes and promptly closed them again.

The split second of vision had told him enough to make him want to develop invisibility on the spot. Or die. Preferably die, right now.

Because Derek Hale had just pulled him away from kissing a dude. In Derek Hale's apartment. At a party he wasn't supposed to know about.

Stiles opened his eyes again to see if he'd imagined it.

Nope, Derek was still looming over them, looking impressively enraged. All heaving shoulders and flaring eyes. Supernaturally flaring eyes, actually. Stiles hoped Danny suffered from the same weirdness censor that plagued both Beacon Hills and Sunnydale and that he simply wouldn't notice how inhumanly angry Derek looked.

“What is going on, Stiles?” Derek growled. Like, actually growled. Supernatural rumbles going through it and everything. He sounded like a roll of thunder.

Stiles shivered a little bit.

“What, going on, nothing!” Stiles struggled to get his words out properly.

“Tell me, Stiles!” Derek snapped, pushing him back against the wall, glowing eyes glaring through his skull like twin lasers.

“Hey!” Danny shouted, grabbing Derek's wrist, “I don't know if you're a homophobe or if you just don't like your cousin having a good time -”

Cousin? Oh, Miguel. Not a good time to laugh at the memory of Derek's angry striptease.

“- but it's not okay for you to get violent with him!”

Wow. Danny was actually defending him. From Derek. Which was like a puppy nipping at an Alpha's toes. But still. Wow.

“I'm not homophobic.” Derek said, sounding defensive, “Get out of here, now.”

“Mixed messages there.” Danny remarked, “Want to tell me what your problem is?”

“Let go of me.” Derek enunciated every word very slowly, glaring down at Danny's hand like he could melt it with only the power of his eyes. If Stiles had been the recipient of that glare (and he had been in the past), he would have fallen over himself in his attempt to let go.

Danny seemed to only grip tighter, “Let go of him first.” And yeah, though Derek was literally made out of muscles and manpain, Danny wasn't exactly a frail specimen of humanity, unlike Stiles. He was strong enough by human standards. If Derek wasn't a werewolf, maybe Danny would have every reason to be confident.

Unexpectedly, Derek smirked. It was a darkly amused curl of his lips and it made part of Stiles very interested in the conversation. Derek sniffed the air subtly and his eyes glowed brighter.

“Cute.” He said, addressing Danny's Vulcan death grip, “Now let go, before you lose the hand.”

“The two of you have met previously, haven't you?” Stiles said breathlessly, “Of course, it was great, we all got on fabulously, now could you both maybe loosen up a little here? We're all friends here, more than friends, actually!”

Derek snarled at him.

“Whoa! I meant, you and I are family, Miguel, I was in no implying... at least I think -”

“I'm beginning to hope the two of you aren't actually cousins,” Danny said wryly, “I'm not sure I'd be comfortable with this otherwise.”

Derek seemed to have had enough, ripping his arm free of Danny's grip with ease, instantly stepping forward to crowd into Stiles' space.

“Why are these people here, Stiles?” He asked, seemingly calm, though his expression still spelled instant death, all flaring nostrils and clenched jaw. Stiles wondered absently if he was struggling not to bare his elongated teeth at them. He didn't care how much of a Zen master Danny was, even he would run away if he saw Derek in full wolfy rage mode.

Stiles shrank back against the wall Derek was crowding him into. So, Derek was angry about the party. Obviously. Not Stiles making out with a guy. Duh.

“I swear to God, I didn't start this or invite anyone.” Stiles said earnestly. The only good thing about most of his inner circle being walking lie detectors was that he never got blamed for stuff he didn't do anymore. He only had to deny it, and they knew. He even mustered up a little smile for Derek, a sort of sheepish grimace of sorry-I'm-attending-a-secret-party-at-your-place-but-hey-at-least-you-know-I-didn't-start-it.

Derek's anger seemed to recede, leaving a sour look on his face.

“What are you doing here, then?”

“Wasting my youth? Sowing wild oats? Uh, would you believe there was a small demon infestation in your loft and we're all here undercover to take them out?”

“No.”

“Is this your place, then?” Danny chimed in. Stiles winced, having forgotten his presence completely. Hopefully, he'd put the demon remark down to just Stiles being Stiles. That was him. Wacky and irreverent. Not hiding anything important or world-changing. No sir.

Derek spared Danny a single nod, not looking away from Stiles' guilty smile.

“Then, uh, sorry about that, man. Do you want us to leave?”

Damn, was Danny nice or what? Though it might have something to do with 'Miguel's' rippling abs and ferocious scowl. Not that Stiles had noticed the abs. Well, he knew they existed in theory. Derek was never shy about partial nudity and his tight shirts left nothing to the imagination. But Stiles had not so much noticed the abs as pointed the abs in Danny's direction and let them do the work. Danny was right, he was a horrible person.

“Yes.” Derek said bluntly, “Go.”

Stiles went to push himself off the wall, “Right, of course, sorry about that and everything -”

“No.” Derek said, placing one hand on his chest, completely restricting his movement. Jeez, one hand/paw was all the guy needed to keep Stiles at bay. That was a real kick in the ego. Derek's monosyllabic nature was emerging again, so maybe he was still pissed.

“Make up your mind. You want me to leave, then stay, then -”

“Stiles.” Derek leant forward, eyes flaring. Stiles froze, “Stay. Here.”

“Yeah, sold, totally sold.” Stiles nodded enthusiastically, still squirming weakly against Derek's hand.

It didn't seem to matter how strong the person he was facing, Stiles could never quite submit or give up. He'd crawled through the station to find his father even whilst crazy-eyed Matt ran around with a gun and a killer pet lizard. He'd mouthed off to Peter even after seeing his dead nurse. And whenever Derek shoved him around or snarled at him, Stiles still refused to be completely cowed. So yeah, he'd helped Peter despite himself and he still flinched whenever Derek threatened him, but he still struggled, fought back as much as the weak human could. Weirdly enough, he kind of got the sense that Derek respected that. Peter had, at least.

“You gonna be alright, Stiles?” Danny gave him a dubious look.

“Sure! Yeah, sure! Hey, by the way, thanks for the whole -” Stiles lowered his voice, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. Derek's chest rumbled threateningly. Stiles could feel it go down to his bones. He quickly ignored every part of him down south, “You know what. See you in school?”

Danny raised an eyebrow at Derek, who had been incessantly glaring straight into Stiles' face for the last few minutes without sparing anything else a glance. He was beginning to look demented.

“Until school, then.” Danny said calmly, “And Stiles? Just text me if you need anything.” And with that, he started to walk off.

“Thanks, Danny! Totally better than Yoda, I swear!” Stiles yelled after his retreating back. The taller boy waved a hand carelessly.

Stiles watched him go, then turned back to Derek, who was still glowering at him crazily. So, nothing new there.

“So, you want me to get everyone to leave? Clean up all the puke? Stand in the corner and contemplate my life choices?” Stiles asked brightly.

Derek grumbled something inaudibly, finally removing his hand from Stiles' chest. Stiles felt the blood rush back to his torso and stifled a pained groan. That was gonna bruise. His lips felt kind of sore too, despite how gentle Danny had been.

A thought made him grin despite himself.

He totally was attractive to gay guys.

xxxxxxxx

After Derek had literally roared the kids out of his loft, Stiles had assumed he'd be sent on his merry way, but Derek had shoved him onto a chair in the kitchen and snarled, “Stay here,” into his face.

Stiles managed to stay put for the ten minutes it took for Derek to return, looking tired and still a little angry. He had dark circles under his eyes.

Stiles hadn't thought Derek capable of succumbing to mundane needs like caffeine, but there he was, pouring himself some coffee. Black, of course. Like his soul.

Derek paused in his little display of domesticity to mutter, “Do you want a drink?” The civility of it all struck Stiles as hilarious.

“Yes, honeywolf.” He snickered, “Lots of milk and sugar, please.”

Derek grumbled some more but complied regardless, shoving a mug of creamy sweetness Stiles' way without a word.

It was delicious. Derek could make coffee. He had a coffee machine. Stiles had always assumed the human digs were more for show, that he really just rolled around the woods, catching prey with his bare hands, climbing trees and howling at the moon.

Stiles let out a satisfied noise, smacking his lips, “Hey, this is actually really good, man.”

Derek was sitting on a chair opposite him, staring as usual. Making no attempt to appear normal at all. Just... staring.

Right. Awkward.

“Did you need me for - “

“You're seventeen.” Derek blurted out, then looked annoyed at himself.

“Tell me something I don't know,” Stiles fired back automatically, then blinked, confused, “How do you even know that?”

“You're seventeen and too young to be... to be doing...” Derek's face contorted painfully. Stiles watched in fascination. “What I saw you doing.”

“...Kissing?” Stiles asked, just to clarify.

Derek nodded jerkily.

“Are you giving me The Talk?” Stiles asked in a hushed whisper, secretly delighted. Wait till he told Scott! Derek Hale, authority figure and sometimes-Alpha, giving teenagers the sex talk!

“No.” Derek denied, sounding horrified.

“You totally are. Did you talk to Scott about Allison? Jackson and Lydia? I hope you did, and that those moments have been documented for future -”

“Stiles. I am not trying to educate you.” Derek leaned back in his chair, thumbs rubbing circles into his temples, “I am trying to make sure you know what you're doing.”

“So this isn't a sex talk, it's a sexuality talk?” Stiles stared at Derek curiously. The older werewolf seemed to be making an effort to avoid his gaze.

“I just – I wouldn't be talking about this with you if this had happened anywhere else.”

Aha. So the Sourwolf felt like the responsible adult, the chaperone at a party. Probably went hand in hand with the whole Alpha thing. The need to control and supervise everything.

“Well, sorry about the home invasion and all, I should have warned you, maybe dropped you a text or something, but this?” Stiles gestured to himself exasperatedly, “This is none of your business. Nothing I get up to is your business, not pack stuff or Stiles stuff. I don't have to explain myself -”

“You were the only minor in my home whose name I know,” Derek interrupted, the growl back in his voice, “You were drinking whilst underage and palpably leaking arousal whilst underage in the place that I live. You made it my business.”

“Palpably leaking arousal?” Stiles yelped. Because getting caught kissing a dude by Derek Hale wasn't bad enough. Derek Hale also had to smell how turned on he was and then be good enough to let him know.

“Even more so than usual.” Derek added, like an afterthought.

Stiles was pretty sure what Derek was smelling now was his sheer, unadulterated humiliation.

He was so sick of worrying about what he smelt like and if the wolves in his life knew more about him than he wanted them to. He wanted to be able to let off some steam after a tough day without Scott wrinkling his nose at him the morning after. He wanted to be able to cry his way through a panic attack without Isaac suddenly dropping a heavy arm around his shoulders a few hours later, silently comforting him because he knew what it was like to feel that way.

He wanted to be able to lie again, to not have to worry about his heartbeat betraying him. Even white lies were out of the question, meaning if Scott asked if he was okay, he could only nod because if he said fine, Scott would instantly know the truth. He wanted his cool, sarcastic front to actually be convincing when Peter came a little too close, wanted to be able to pretend he wasn't scared.

He was tired of smug, knowing looks being shot his way whenever Lydia entered the room.

“Oh,” He said, his voice sounding far away, achingly cold and bitter, “was I leaking my feelings again? You know how I've tried to work on that – wearing extra cologne and taking long, hot showers and trying to control my heartbeat – sorry for the inconvenience. You know, of my messy teenage hormones. Getting all over your loft. Maybe you could try holding your nose when I'm around? Or your breath?”

“You're angry.” Derek said.

“Give the wolf a prize!” Stiles leapt up, “What'll be, Sourwolf? Would you like the new car or Stiles' dignity?”

“I shouldn't have said that. About the arousal.” Derek said, his voice flat and toneless. If it was an apology, it needed to work on being more apologetic and less bored.

“Nah, it's alright. Silly human Stiles, right? With his silly sexuality crisis and his embarrassing hormonal troubles. Who needs privacy or respect anyway? It's totally fine to point out every single detail about his private life and personal issues. There's nothing wrong with Isaac smelling his frustration and making jokes about how he needs to get laid! Who cares if Scott smells how much the Sheriff had to drink the night before and blurts it out right in front of him? Sure, Stiles' dad was mortified, but Scott can't exactly help it! Poor werewolves and their super senses, it must be so difficult being able to dissect every little detail about a person with a breath!”

At some point during his rant, Derek had stood up and they now stood chest to chest, Stiles angrily yelling right into the older man's face.

“I want to have secrets again! I want my private life back! I want to be able to feel something without you guys knowing straightaway! I want the thoughts in my head to stay in my head!”

Derek opened his mouth again, “I'm sorry -”

“No, no, you don't have to apologise.” Stiles shook his head rapidly like a dog after a bath. He moved away from Derek, still wired and energised by his anger. He placed his hands on his hips and began to pace up and down the kitchen, “If it's anyone's fault, it's Peter's. He's the one who turned Scott. Changed everything. I was planning on telling Scott that I appreciated all genders of the spectrum at some point in our lives, but I didn't get that opportunity because he smelled it on me the first time we were in a changing room after he turned. I just wish I had more control, you know? It sucks, being the pet human.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Derek asked, looking pissed for some reason. Probably because Stiles had just offloaded a few months' worth of pent up rage in his kitchen without warning.

“What else am I? Lydia's the smart one, really. I can't fight like you guys can. Me being vaguely magical never went beyond ash scattering. I don't bring anything to the pack other than wit and sarcasm, and only freaking Peter appreciates that. Even my 'research' never works out. Google is not a reliable font of supernatural facts, amazingly enough.”

Stiles stopped talking, his throat tightening up. He felt the embarrassment creep up on him as he mentally went over everything he had said. God, he was pathetic. Whining in Derek's kitchen.

The silence settled over them, heavy and awkward. Stiles was turned away from Derek, not wanting to see his annoyance or boredom. Whichever of his two primary emotions he was currently feeling.

Then Derek took a step closer to him and placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder, a light, gentle weight.

“The pack needs you,” Derek said slowly, sounding bizarrely sincere, “You're suicidally brave. You've saved us all multiple times. The bullet, the pool... that was all you. You put yourself out for Scott every day. You go above and beyond what's expected of you without even thinking about it. You kept Scott alive, you trained him when I couldn't and Peter wouldn't, you kept him human. You do that for the pack, you keep us... right. If you were a wolf, you'd know that. You'd be able to sense how much we need you. You're not useless, Stiles, or a token human. You're a necessity.”

“Even for you?” Stiles whispered, horrified to find his eyes welling up. Who knew Derek had it in him? Or that Stiles obviously craved validation this much?

“Of course.” Derek said tersely, looking uncomfortable and grumpy once more.

“You never offered me the bite.” Stiles said slowly, unwilling to give up his righteous anger to Derek's gentle praise. He wasn't that easy, after all. He tried to subtly wipe his eyes, then gave up. It wasn't as though Derek couldn't smell the salt in the air.

Stiles turned around to face Derek, wanting to see his reaction to this. Back in the days of the kanima, of power-tripping Betas and everyone trying to get to Scott one way or another, Stiles had been prepared for Derek to try to pressure him into joining his pack. It made sense. Scott and Stiles came as a pair, an awesome twosome of loyalty and friendship. Bite one, get one free.

But Derek never asked.

“You were Scott's best friend. I wanted him in my pack, biting you would have prevented that from happening. He would have tried to kill me. Not to mention how it would affect you, torn between your Alpha and your best friend. I'm not Peter. I don't bite without consent and I care about the consequences. I tried to be a good Alpha.”

“You did your best.” Stiles shrugged, “And, Scott and Lydia aside, Peter was kind enough to offer me the bite and let it go when I refused.”

Derek's eyes flashed blue. Stiles jumped.

“Sorry.” Derek grit out. “I didn't... I didn't know he did that.”

Looked like he'd accidentally dropped Peter in it. Oh well.

“Yeah, after prom he... well, he offered, I said no, we had a few laughs, it was all pretty civil.”

Derek only grunted in response, still looking vaguely homicidal.

Searching for a change in topic, Stiles blurted out, “So why were you so angry before?”

Derek took a sip of his coffee and said nothing.

Used to the former Alpha's taciturn ways, Stiles pressed on regardless, “I know the party should never have happened and you had every right to be pissed about that, but you were more than pissed, you seemed... er, more. Than normal. 'Cause, I mean. You always seem angry. But I really thought you were gonna bite Danny's head off. Literally.”

“It was the party.” Derek said flatly, “This place is supposed to be safe for me, and it was suddenly filled with strangers.”

“I can see how that'd suck. Hey, so is this your little wolfy den? Wait, no, I digress. I've seen you angry at your uncle for suddenly being a psychotic murderer, and at Scott for making you bite a geriatric nutcase, and you actually seemed angrier -”

“Drop it, Stiles.”

“- is it the gay thing? Seriously? Are you a caveman for real?”

“It's not the gay thing.” Derek gritted out, sounding pained.

“Is it Danny? Is it 'cause of that time with Miguel and -”

“No.”

“Well, what then?!” Stiles threw his hands up, frustrated.

“You're just a kid!” Derek roared. The words exploded out of him, “You don't know what you want, you're too young and it's wrong!”

“Derek,” Stiles said, trying to keep his voice mild and quiet, “Derek, I'm seventeen and all we were doing was kissing. It's legal, it's not -”

“That's not what I'm talking about.” Derek said, deflating as the rage left him. He sounded matter-of-fact, chillingly calm. “You aren't the problem. It's me.”

“What?”

“It's legal for you to be kissed by other teenagers. I'm not a teenager. The smell of your arousal – I want – it made me want –” Derek kept pausing in between words, his voice faltering. “It's wrong.” He finished quietly, eyes on the floor.

Stiles couldn't breathe.

Derek?

The older man took a deep breath, unclenching his fists. “I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. You should go home.”

Stiles just stared at him, speechless.

“How much did you drink tonight? I can call you a cab.” Derek mumbled, turning away. He wasn't blushing or anything, and Stiles didn't exactly have any wolfy senses to help, but Derek's embarrassment was obvious even to him. His shoulders were stiff with tension, as though anticipating a blow.

“You. Want...” Stiles tried to gather his thoughts, put them in order. He could barely form a sentence, “I mean, you... want, I made you want me? With my scent?”

“It's instinct.” Derek said abruptly, “It's difficult to control how you react to certain scents.”

“So, anyone's arousal would have...?”

Derek closed his eyes.

The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken meaning.

It was because of Stiles. Derek felt so guilty because it was Stiles he wanted.

“Peter told me about Paige!” Stiles blurted out. Derek's eyes flew open, bright blue. “I know you fell in love when you were just a teenager, and it ended really badly, but that doesn't mean...” Stiles ran out of steam at the angry look on Derek's face. He couldn't even remember where he had been trying to go with this. What was he trying to do, persuade Derek it was okay to want Stiles? In the eyes of the law, it wasn't. Considering Stiles' father, Derek had every reason to avoid Stiles like the plague.

“Peter had no right.” Derek said coldly. The glow of his eyes receded. He took a step back, away from Stiles, “It's not just your scent. It's you. You reminded me of her, the first time you mouthed off to me. But Paige died... I killed her. And then, Kate used me. I don't think I need to remind you about Jennifer. I've never had a relationship end well. It’s safer for everyone, better for everyone, if I’m alone for a while.”

“We weren’t exactly talking about marriage and beautiful adopted children,” Stiles said dryly, “we were talking about…” He swivelled his hips a few times absently, not noticing Derek’s eyes immediately drop down to them, “you know. Making whoopee. I get you wanting to avoid relationships for the time being, believe me, I think it’s a great idea. Tactically and all. But whatever it is that makes you…” He swallowed, still feeling like he was being pranked in some way. Like the moment he really believed Derek could want him, confetti would rain down from the ceiling, Danny and Lydia would emerge from nowhere and there would be cameras at every angle, people shouting – never mind. Mental tangent. Getting away from the subject.

Derek was still just staring at him, expressionless. Inscrutable. Still the hottest person he had ever laid eyes on. The stuff of wet dreams. Somehow looking very, very lost and alone despite his blank stare.

“Me,” He finally said, his voice hoarse, “You wanting me… it’s not something you have to feel guilty about. I mean… I don’t mind!”

“Yeah, and I bet your dad would be thrilled. Let’s call him and tell him the good news, shall we? A murder suspect wants to have sex with his underage son. See how many guns he brings.” Derek said, voice dryer than the Sahara.

“No court would have convicted you.” Stiles said automatically, his mind stuck on wants to have sex with. It was the first time in his entire life someone had ever stated out loud that they wanted him in that way. Heather did not count. “And I’m practically legal anyway. One birthday to go and then this ass is up for grabs. Metaphorically speaking.”

“I don’t want to discuss this.” Derek muttered, rubbing his forehead with a grimace.

“Yeah, well, I do. Sucks to be you. I just… it’s not like you don’t know that I – that I feel the same. Right? I mean, you can smell what I had for breakfast…”

“Arousal is never specific,” Derek shrugged, “Teenagers almost always smell of it, and there’s rarely context needed to explain it. If you ever smelled like desire around me… it was easier to think that it wasn’t directed towards me.”

“Why?”

Derek took a deep breath, eyes flashing. His voice was low and rough when he replied, “Because you… you are just too tempting, all the time.”

It was like the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. The space between them seemed smaller than before. Stiles bit his lip, uncomfortably reminded of the moment Danny had stepped up to him, that determined look in his eye. His stomach was filled with the same sweet heat as when Danny’s thigh had first touched his.

Derek was clearly scenting the air, eyes still glowing, hot on Stiles’ face.

Stiles sternly warned his libido off. Nap time. Grown-ups were talking.

“Then you know… I like you, you like me… we could, maybe… do a thing, uh, that is, we could –“

“I won’t lay a finger on you, Stiles. I promised myself I wouldn’t. I won’t be that person.” Even as he spoke, he was stepping forward, hips rolling in a predatory, stalking motion. Stiles stumbled backwards without thinking, his back hitting a counter, leaving him with nowhere to go. Derek continued his slow advance.

“I won’t touch you.” Derek promised, his voice hushed, eyes on Stiles’ lips. Stiles felt the heat of his body press against him, even with the inch of space still left between them. Derek’s mouth ghosted along his jaw, lips just barely missing the skin.

“Not until I’m sure you want me, not just any willing person.”

“Hey, I have standards.” Stiles protested weakly, trying very hard not to close the gap between his and Derek’s mouth. He had a feeling that would be a very bad idea for everyone. Even with the virgin sacrifice thing always an issue potentially looming on the horizon. 

Derek huffed a laugh, breath washing over Stiles’ lips. They felt overly sensitive, bruised from Danny’s attentions. Derek seemed to notice, his eyes narrowing in on the tender flesh.

“If you come to me, legal, knowing exactly what you want… I might change my mind.” Derek gave an unholy smirk, hand almost but not quite touching Stiles’ cheek.

They weren’t touching at all, and yet when Derek backed away, Stiles swayed forward, feeling drunk with the need to feel the older man under his hands, to feel the touch reciprocated.

“You can stay the night in the guest bedroom if you agree to keep your hands to yourself.” Derek moved away entirely, leaving Stiles cold and painfully hard. Derek’s smile was unbearably smug. Stupid werewolf self-control. Derek could probably growl away an errant boner.

As Derek made to leave the room, something drove Stiles to stop him.

“Hey. Just so you know… this isn’t about sex to me. Well, not entirely. I mean, you’re – you’re unfairly attractive, like sex god levels of gorgeous, but you know. I’ve… wanted you since the beginning. Not just for sex. You – you were surly and hot and mysterious, and you saved me so many times without hesitation. And then, that night in the pool, with the kanima, I saved you too, and I realised how – how destroyed I’d be if you died. You got in my head, man. Under my skin. Burrowed into my brain. I never once thought you’d even look at me as anything other than Scott’s annoying friend…”

“You’ve proved yourself to be more than that,” Derek said, his smile less smug, more… content, now. “Brave, smart and resilient. Resourceful… witty and always scheming. Always thinking of another plan. Always ten steps ahead. I knew I wanted you when I pinned you against your bedroom wall and you sassed me about your dad shooting me. You were scared, but you still wouldn't back down. I… liked that. Still do.”

Stiles’ cheeks felt hot. He wasn’t used to being praised, let alone in such a warm, tender voice. Derek just sounded so fond.

Derek nodded at him, stepping out of the kitchen, hand ready to pull the door shut behind him. “One more birthday.” He said, like it was a private joke between the two of them.

Stiles nodded back, wishing his downstairs area would calm the hell down and realise how long it was gonna have to wait.

He owed Danny so many fruit baskets. Best. Yoda. Ever.


End file.
